She was so weak... She could barely stand... Barely keep moving forward.

Rowen... She must have realized that death would be her only escape... Death would be her only salvation. Because it had been nearly a week, yet she had not come after her. In the darkness of a lonely park she now took refuge, waiting for dawn to come... Waiting for the sun to make short work of her.

Sera had wanted to go to her mother's grave, but the vampires of the cemetery had chased her away.... She wouldn't ever see her mother again... Wouldn't ever beg for her mother's forgiveness at having to watch her little angel do such horrible things...

Every time she came near a human now... Every time she got to close even when hunting... Horrors filled her mind, voices that made her scream in agony and flee... That was the only reason why Sera had yet to kill... The only reason why Sera hadn't fed in so long.

Her face was sunken... Her skin was pale and ashen. A vampire on the verge of her second death... Accepting her fate.

A spasm of ravenous hunger tore through her body, making her howl with anguish. But she could no longer stagger on. Falling to the ground she curled up shaking, her body aching with a hunger she had never truly known before. She had never gone more than three days before, but on her sixth night with no blood... It would only be a matter of time.

The poor fledgling was too weak to move any further. When the sun came up in a few hours... She would suffer no more...

A shadow, nothing more.

His strides were long, but meaningless. They carried him nowhere, just away from the damned city, and from her. With a disgusted snarl, he ran the back of his hand across his lips as if he could somehow rid himself of her taste. It was impossible. She lingered over him, saturating his thoughts like a beautiful succubus, always and always, damn her.

The very air seemed unnaturally still as he cut through it, and the evening breeze typical of the season was dead, yet his footsteps made not a sound as he drew near the reclusive park. He drew closer, sensing the slight alteration in scent as the old musk of people long come and long gone carried to him. A pause. There was something else. A sharp, anguished cry pierced through the serene night, bringing new connotations to the previous and ensuing silence.

Michael turned his head, the spiteful, cold stare smoothing into cautious curiosity. He altered his course, turning away from the forest and slowly circling the small clearing where she lay, her thin, starved body curled upon the bare ground. He could smell her, weak and young, so young, not just in form but in the blood as well. The scent of her mortality still lingered about her, a pervasive, rank aura that curled like a fist in his stomach, stoking a familiar hunger. She was raw, starving. And she was alone.

He paced around the perimeter, pausing every now and again to study her from a new angle. The moon lit across her deathly-pale skin, glowing about the edges of her face. She looked hardly more than a girl. Soft, sweet. Vulnerable. He traced the edges of his fangs with his tongue, continuing to pace. She wasn't dead. Her lethargic heart still moved, but her mind and weak, young body had surrendered. From the looks of her, she hadn't fed in a good long while.

Perhaps it was worth a little investigating. At the very least, perhaps she'd provide a little fun, a little bit of a distraction. He moved towards her across the small park, approaching her from where she could see him, his pace deliberately slow. He paused several yards from her, his low voice the second scythe to cut through the unusual calm:

"You lost, love?"

She... She could feel him... She could feel his emotions... His curiosity as he examined her. The sensation was an invasion into her mind, making her whimper, making her body writhe as he drew closer, the sensations becoming stronger.

"No..." She whimpered, her voice barely more than a whisper as she tried to move away from him as he drew closer.

"No... leave me... Leave me be!" She choked out at last, as if her body wasn't cooperating to put out air.

She just wanted it all to stop. She wanted the thoughts, the sounds the voices... She wanted them to go away... Go away forever and leave her alone. Unable to move more than a few yard with her diminished strength, she curled up, helpless. Her hands clasped around her ears, her head as she tried to block out the vampire. Yeah... She didn't even have to smell them anymore.

"No. Make it stop! Please... Kill me." She whimpered again, her eyes shutting tight. "I can't take the voices anymore. Can't take this... This life." No one loved her, no one cared for her. Every man that ever told her sweet words had vanished, and the women were even worse. Cold... Cruel... Diminutive... She'd seen enough of these damn vampires.

"Kill me. Make them all stop. Please." She begged softly.

As she squirmed from him, his expression hardened into a pleased smirk and he took a couple of slow steps forward, but when she begged for him to take her life...Michael paused, startled, his shoulders falling just slightly. He hadn’t been certain what to expect from this feeble, pitiful stranger, but he wouldn’t have guessed it would be a plea for death. Well this was hardly any fun.

"Make what stop?" He asked, his brow furrowing with confusion. He looked glanced around the empty clearing, knowing perfectly well he'd find nothing, before looking back at the apparently bewildered fledgling. "Who's hurting you?"

Michael stepped a little closer, circling around to better see her face and easily closing the little distance she had put between them in her weak attempt to escape. The muddled thing looked like she hadn’t fed in nights and wasn’t likely to be causing him much harm. The murky starlight flashed across her face, glowing dimly in her staring eyes until she shut them. His mood fell, not out of sympathy or even pity, but because he was in no mood to be caught taking care of some other reckless bloodsucker’s fledging brat. Still, it was stick around here or keep walking until near-dawn before heading back to the same house, the same tension, the typical, wicked games.

“Who do you think is talking to you?”

He was close, now, close enough to see every grimy detail of her. The little urchin’s face was sickly gaunt. She was starving, wasting away. So why wasn’t she begging for a little nibble rather than death? Her clothes were grubby, and by the looks of her she hadn’t seen a bath in good while. Warily, he crouched down beside her and pushed her hair back from her face, her closed eyes, tilting her head so that he could get a good look at her. Just a girl. Not even a woman yet, thus, useless. Releasing her, he looked about the clearing with no little impatience. He had the feeling he'd just signed himself away to a great waste of time.

Of course she couldn't tell exactly what he was thinking... But she didn't need to. His emotions told her everything. Weak... Pathetic... Useless... The feelings made her cry out in anguish, the little blood she had forming little pools of tears at the corner of her eyes. It was what everyone probably thought of her...

It was what she really was. She was nothing... She already knew that much. Everyone probably thought she was nothing. Her father had always said she would be nothing...

"You..." She whimpered weakly to answer his question. "Everyone... In my mind. It... It won't stop. It won't go away...." She choked back another cry as he moved closer. His touch was like a shock, making her jerk slightly. She could smell the blood... His flesh.... So close. For the first time it was in reach... But the pain, the buzzing that filled her ears was far too painful. But she couldn't help nuzzle against it ever so slightly, opening her lips as if to strike.

"Stop it... Please... Kill me. If... If you think I'm useless- a waist of time... End it... Stop everything." She whispered, her glassy eyes looking up at him. For once there was nothing her body could do to keep her alive. Even if the beast in her took over, it hated the touch... Hated the feel of another mind in hers...

"No one.....Loves me.... Wants me."

He watched her closely as she jerked away, fought with what little strength she had to evade his touch, then folded to it the smell of his blood like a good little vampire. Even if some part of her wanted its life ended, the brutish half was but a newborn and would do whatever was in its nature to survive. His cold eyes flashing with anticipation, he watched her lips part, her fangs glistening so close to his skin, and he had half a mind to urge her on. But instead she looked up at him and again begged him to remove her from existence.

In a way, it was tempting, her plea. She was so vulnerable. What fun it would be to oblige her, to sink his teeth into her still soft throat and tear out what little life remained. Almost like killing a mortal. Just as sweet, but more powerful. And her death would easily justified--not that there seemed to be anyone to justify it to. Even so, she had asked for it, had she not? She had. Twice, now.

Or...

Or he could save her. His eyes flashed again, and a slow, dark smirk tugged at his impassive expression, hardening it, changing it. He could save her, raise her, nurture her back to health. She could be his little experiment, his project, his pet. She would soon be stronger, strong enough to take whatever it was he wished to give her, or force onto her. Stronger than that bitch who'd only break if he dared do as he truly wished to her. It was a fine plan, really. Since he lacked worthwhile company, he'd just have to make it.

His fingers slowly curled into her hair, stroking her cold skin, feeling her sluggish pulse as it trembled weakly through her body. He bent closer to her, bringing his fingers back down the side of her face and to her lips. He traced them slowly, feeling the hardness of her fangs beneath them.

"Come, darling, feed from me. Feed from me and I'll help you block out all the others. It will be us. Only us. You need the blood. Take it."

Sera gasped sharply as he touched her, expecting a killing blow. But his hands were gently... Caressing her dirty curls, then stroking the side of her face tenderly.

Her body clenched again and again with hunger... Want for blood.

But she couldn't. She couldn't drink it... To drink was life, which was death... Only in death would she live once more... No... She could no... But... But he said he could help he. He said that he could block them out, he could make it better so it was only them. Them?

"I... I ca-" But as she opened her lips she tasted the vampire's flesh.

Pain was throbbing through her whole body. Her eyes were swollen shut, blood trickling down one of them. "Sera... Sera you have to drink... I didn't want to... But... But you're dying... I... I don't want you to die. I don't." Ambros' voice soothed as he stroked her head. "Drink this Sera... Please."

Pitifully she had accepted... She had wanted to live as well... The blood had flowed in her that night... The night her father nearly killed her.

The taste of blood filled her mouth once more as she began to come back to the moment. She sucked gingerly at his finger, savoring every last drop of his blood. Vampire blood would sustain her... But it would only prolong her life, not restore her. ut she drank eagerly anyway. She was slowly curing against him as she drank. The blooddid not fill her or restore her... But she had strength enough to live...

He smirked smugly down at her as her lips parted to speak and instead whispered against his hand. She hesitated. That was good. But the smirk quickly dissipated into his usual impassive glare as the glinting tips of her fangs pressed into his skin, striving in their weakness to do what they were intended to do.

Michael clenched his teeth as she bit into him, drawing blood that would at least give her the strength to survive until he found her something a little more suitable than the coldness of his veins. He had never shared his blood with anyone before--the sensation was not entirely unpleasant, but it was a significantly new feeling to a creature used to glutting himself on the destruction of others and had never been too partial to sharing much of anything with anyone. His breath was a sigh, a low hiss between his teeth, and after a minute he gently removed himself from her, licking away the excess blood himself and consequently tasting her on his skin. His freezing eyes burned with dark conquest, and he ran his thumb across her slightly bloodied lips while the tiny gashes in his hand healed over.

"Not enough, is it, love? You need something more, something else. Something warmer. Do you want it? Tell me if you want it, darling, and I'll fetch it for you. I'll bring you back something nice, something that will make you strong and radiant, and then we can walk home together if you're feeling stronger. Wouldn't you like that?"

He gently took her jaw in his hand, turning her pale, sunken face towards him. There was the faintest hint of color in her cheeks. Not nearly enough, but a glorious start.

Weak whimpers of protest sounded from her as he pulled his fingers away. She wanted... Needed more.

But she lay there panting still, pushing at his mind feebly to make it go away. She knew how to push them away, but even when she was strong, she was too weak. Right now it was a fly brushing at a lion or some other large beast. So insignificant across a huge expanse.

His thumb brushed at her lips and she moved to bit it, but it moved away too quickly. Again hunger shot through her, though not as hard or urgent. But she still ached for more.

But a fearful look came in her eyes as he asked if she wanted more blood. But...

"No! They... I cant. They attack my mind... I can't get rid of them ever!" She whimpered frightfully. And more than that... She didn't want him to go. She didn't want to be alone. "Every one of them that gets close... They tear my mind to shreds. I can't..." She said woefully.

He was only prolonging her death now she was thinking once more. How would she feed if humans made her jerk and pull away so horribly? "I can't feed... I can't..." She whimpered.

Yes, that was a problem, wasn’t it? These voices she heard, no doubt the thoughts of the living and perhaps even those of other vampires, had prevented her from taking proper care of herself thus far. He watched her tremble against the earth, deep in thought, until at last a glint of inspiration snuck across his steely gaze.

“Can you drink dead blood? Have you ever tried?”

The idea was repulsive to Michael, but he had heard of vampires who could feed from the recently deceased. If she was one such bloodsucker, it would save her the issue of the voices and spare him the grating sound of her frightened screams. A happy thing for the both of them, really. And if she could not feed from the dead, she could certainly feed from the unconscious. He could sneak off, find a lonely victim nearby, rough them up a bit and bring them back here. And as for all the other voices she was hearing, well, they’d figure it out a step at a time.

“Let me bring you a treat, lamb,” he growled gently, brushing her cheek with his thumb. “Things will be better once you have your strength back, and then we can figure out how to make all those nasty voices stop."

"Dead... N-no..." She shook her head weakly. "It is like vampires... It will keep me... alive but no more." She whispered.

A soft murmur was pulled from her throat as he caressed her cheek, her head tilted back, letting his hand fall to her throat for a moment.

Better... Could things be better? Could she really be okay again? He said he could make the voices stop, that he could make them all go away. "Will they...?" She whispered softly. "Go away I mean.... Can you stop them?" She looked up at him weakly. Could he really stop them? Could he make the voices go away?

Her head fell back to the ground her eyes closing slightly, as if in a daze. "I... just want them... to go away..." Even if that meant death... No matter what she had to do.

Sera's body jolted suddenly and she gasped. Curling up into a tight ball she began to whimper. Her head was filled with a vicious buzzing and it throbbed against her mind. She couldn't stand it!

The culprit was a young man... Jogging in sweatpants and a t-shirt from the University. He was worrying about his exams... The fact he had caught his fiance screwing with another man... How he might loose his position on the soccer team to the younger kids who were coming up.... All the worry, the fear and the anger was paining Sera greatly, and it was all she could do to keep from crying out.

He stared down into the gentle eyes that plead with him and smiled, by no means a comforting or soft expression when he wore it. This was all turning out rather nicely. She relinquished again to her weakness, and he left his hand against her fragile neck, so very tempted to stroke it, to see her squirm in her immobile way. But instead the source of her discomfort hit his senses on a breath of cool air.

Human. Young, and close. His blood was strong, pumping hard through his working heart. He was perfect.

"We'll stop the voices, you and I. We'll find a way to keep them from hurting you. Lie still now, love, and let me silence the first of many for you."

He was on his feet and on his way out of the clearing in one easy motion. The boy was moving around the perimeter of the park at a steady jog. Michael broke from the trees and onto the thin dirt path, tagging along a fair distance behind the unfortunate new prey. Michael could hear his thoughts too, but apparently not in the way the fledgling heard him. He could hear his inner turmoil, every petty mortal worry. The kid slowed to a slow jog, then a walk, then stopped, leaning against a tree overlooking a small hill to catch his breath.

Michael was on him before he could inhale twice, throwing him against the tree. The young man collapsed, and Michael caught his slouching figure before he could fall, tearing a violent gash in his exposed neck. His blood bubbled forth, hot and sweet. With a victorious snarl, he grabbed the kid's reddening collar and dragged him back to the still fledgling. Tossing the boy down beside her, he turned him so that the tear in his neck faced her, just inches from her face. Michael kneeled over the body, pinning him to the ground lest he start back into wakefulness anytime soon. His eyes blazed as he urged her on.

"Go on, kitten, he won't hurt you now. I've quieted him for you. Feed, be strong. Take him."

She tried to protest, tried to keep him from leaving, but he was gone... He'd left her... And something else left just as suddenly as well. The buzzing, the pain... It was gone.

But there was blood... Blood...

Sera could smell it even from the distance. She needed it... Wanted it.

But she couldn't move. She couldn't get to it. A howl of anguish and frustration rose from her as she ached to feed... Craved the blood. But she could do nothing.

But relief flooded through her as she smelt the blood closer. She crawled a few feet, where she now knew the blood to be. Sera licked eagerly at the wound... Licked at the blood on his face, on his neck... Her fangs latched into his flesh and she gulped greedily. The blood warmed her skin... It made her heart beat faster, her muscles strengthened. But when she pulled away, it wasn't enough.

Her skin was still pale, ashen and slightly drawn. Not to mention the dirt.

But she fell back against the grass as the man lay dead on the ground. She was panting heavily, but her eyes were open, bloodshot as she fought to recover her wits. The man had been silenced. Silenced forever. One less mind to hurt her...

Her eyes slipped shut as her breathing slowed again, but she still lay on the ground, not knowing what to do...

He wiped the blood from his lips with the back of his hand, chuckling darkly as he watched her crawl to the boy and latch to him with the irrefutable strength of desperation. She drained him bloody fast, too. It shocked him, how quickly the lad died. His brow raised, and he stepped closer to her, looking down at where she lay on the ground, her wide eyes shut again as she fought to slow her racing pulse.

"Are we not satisfied? Shall I bring you another?"

His eyes flicked around the clearing, his cold face stone. This park, it wasn't far from the edge of a little residential place he knew of. He could bring another back in a minute or two at the very most. But then...

"Or can you walk, darling? Could you walk if I helped you along?"

From the looks of her, he was thinking no. Just one wasn't enough to have her up and taking on healthy humans. He touched his tongue to his fangs with a grin, his lethargic pulse already beginning to rise again with renewed, murderous fervor.

"Right, you stay still, kitten," he growled. "I'm going to find you another one you can take all by yourself. Don't move a muscle. I won't be gone but a minute."

And he was vanished up along the narrow trail, the still night air now cutting across his skin as he ran, his muscles burning with anticipation as the lights of the row of neat little houses drew near. There. The second to last house on the block. There was a girl, perhaps a couple of years older than the fledgling, taking out the trash. He paused in the shadows behind her house, reaching out for her, urging her to follow. She dropped the plastic bag she was holding, her eyes blank and cold as she turned towards him, her lips parting. Her steps were slow, fumbling, and he willed her forward with impatience. At last she was within reach, and he struck, beating her hard across the side of her face. She sprawled to the ground, and he lifted her into his arms, casting a quick glance around the empty street before he turned and made his way back through the trees.

She was very much where he had left her, and he dropped the still girl beside her. If his eyes had been burning before, now they scorched with a freezing fire all they looked upon. His fangs were bared with the rush of hunger in his veins, and it took a considerable amount of effort to keep from gutting the sweet little thing himself.

"More," he rasped. "You need more. Have her."

Satisfied? No... She wasn't satisfied now.. She wanted more. She still hungered for blood and.... "More...." She whispered. "I need more...." Her brown eyes opened and she turned her head towards him. She shook her head though as he said he would be back.

"No... Don't go... Please?" She whispered, turning over and trying to crawl towards him. But like before he was gone. But... But he would be back right? Yes. He would be back. He had come back before.

So conserving her strength, she curled up on the grass, murmuring slightly.

But before she could really begin to wonder why she had taken his offer, he was back.

A young girl... Maybe her age, or a little older. And she was silent. Her mind did not scream... Didn't yell and...

Within a moment, Sera was tearing at her throat. With more strength than before she tore at the soft flesh. But she drank slowly this time. Taking deep, long draws of blood form the girl. Her skin slowly began to warm... Tan and soft, her face filled out again, her skin seemed fresh now, her fingers no longer bony, her wrists no longer thin.

She pulled away with a sigh, still leaning over her. Licking her lips she looked up at the man. His mind was quiet... as if he were keeping her from feeling it... Something she appreciated. "Why didn't you kill me... Even when I begged... You thought I was useless... But you didn't kill me..."

The biting scent of fresh blood stung at him, making his stomach curl and clench with a vicious, mesmerizing hunger to tear and crush and break. And kill. She blossomed under his very eyes, her skin filling with smooth color, her hair obtaining a subtle glow beneath the dirt and tangles. Her face was no longer that of a starving vampire but of a pretty young thing with a dark little secret. Michael counted down the number of heartbeats of the girl as they trailed away and eventually stopped altogether. He released the tense breath he had been holding, looking from the dead girl to the vampiress as she spoke to him at last.

"What good would it do to kill you? It wouldn't benefit me, and it certainly wouldn't benefit you. You're weak now, but you're not better off dead. You can get stronger, and you will, if you want to. He moved a little closer to her, the dizzying pulsing in his head gradually passing as the smell of the girl's blood began to dissipate. “Don’t you have a maker? A sire?”

A sire. A useless thing to have, really, if you were strong enough to do without one. But in his years as a bloodsucker, he hadn't met many vampires who had shared his view. He hadn't met many who were strong enough. But they had been considerably older. She was just a girl, after all, and had probably had no reason to be pulled from her mortal life except for by some accident or some instance of violence. The stories of such fledglings were rarely unique.

"Who takes care of you, kitten?"

"But I wanted it...." She murmured, sitting back. "I wanted to die... I can't stand the voices... The thoughts. Everything... I can't stand anyone in my mind." She whispered, looking away.

But as he asked about her sire, she looked up with a glare. "I hate him... He only turned me because he was a selfish bastard." She hissed. "If I ever see him again... I'll kill him." Her voice was a low growl.

"No one takes care of me... They try... But no one's ever really helped me because no one understands me..." She said, her fists tightening slightly into the blades of grass. "The last one... She tried though... She tried to understand me... But then... Then I started hearing the voices... Thoughts of people. I couldn't take it anymore. I tried, but I couldn't."

She looked up at him, her face... A mixture of emotions. Anger, fear, longing... hesitation. "And... And now I'm going to suffer all over again because of you..." She said softly. "I just wanted to die... I have no reason to live any more."

But the accusations he did not like. He'd done her a damn nice favor, he had. If she truly wanted to be left for dead she was certainly working up his nerves the right way to get just that. The last thing he wanted was to have a brat hanging around, nagging him about how she wanted death. The little runt didn’t know a damn thing if she thought death would be any more of a comfort than whatever she was suffering through now.

“It’s not too late,” he murmured through clenched teeth. “What was your reason to live to begin with? How do you know anyone has a damn reason to live? But the point is you’re here. You can trust me if you’re willing to try, or you can’t. And if you decide you can’t and would rather die out here, then I’ll do you a favor and take the time to oblige you.”

He forced himself to pause, to take a breath. No point in getting too vexed at her, not yet. He was a reasonable man when he wanted to be. She’d undergone some troubling things, no doubt. She was in a bit of shock. That was it. She’d get over it real soon, and if she didn’t…

“You can learn, kitten, if you want to. If you take the time and suffer the trouble of it. It’s likely you can learn how to shut them up, block them out. And if you can’t, then you can live someplace quiet I know of and I can bring you a nice, warm dinner every evening. Wouldn’t you rather try that?”

"I never had a reason...." She murmured, pulling her knees to her chest.

Sera listened to him carefully though. He was angry... Frustrated with her... But... She didn't know what to do. She wanted to go with him... But so many others had only hurt her.... How could she trust him?

How did she know that he wouldn't hurt her... That he wouldn't ignore her or abuse her? She hated Ambros for what he did... Hated Rosa for prying into her mind, using her memories against her... Felix for abandoning her... Rowen for neglecting and belittling her.

"How do I know that you... You aren't like the others..." She whispered, the fear peaking through more than any other emotion. "I... I don't want to be alone... But everyone I've ever trusted...." She shook her head slightly, burying her face in her knees.

He reached into his coat pocket and slipped out a cigarette, fishing around impatiently until he found the tiny lighter. Watching her as she spoke, he brought the tiny flame to his lips and inhaled. The smoke curled up and away, vanishing into the night. It did nothing for him, of course, and it tasted horrible, but it was an old habit and he didn't have a reason to quit.

"How does anyone know, love? One moment you think you're okay and you've got the night and the whole damn city under your wings. The next you're wondering how the hell you lost your touch and ended up alone or just downright miserable and pathetic. Better to be lost and confused than to be love's bitch."

He tapped the ashes to the ground, crushing them underfoot. She was a curious thing, this one, no doubt heavily abused by God knew how many people. In brutal truth he knew he'd be no different because in the end he was just using her to escape Al. But that was what life was, wasn't it? Everyone used everyone to avoid everyone else. And, well, he'd be damned if he didn't at least show her a good time before their time was up.

"Come on, kitten, walk with me. Or let me sit and talk with you if you'd rather rest. If you don't know about coming with me yet, you can decide in a bit." He tossed the cigarette to the ground, crushing it out as well, and moved a little closer. "You got a name, pet?"

If life was so bad... Why did he let her live? Why didn't he save her the pain?

"I... I'm sorry... But I'm still rather weak..." She whispered softly. "Maybe... You could sit with me a little while?" Her question was hesitant, almost pleading as she looked up at him. She was weaker, tired... And for once she longed for someone to curl up against... hold her tight...

She wanted her mother... But now... Now she would never be allowed to visit her mother's grave again.

"I... I'm Sera.... But... You can call me Kitten... It really doesn't matter." She said with a shrug. After all, Felix used to call her Ally Cat. And... And he was the only one who really understood her. So maybe... If he thought she was cat like, he would understand her too. "What's your name?"

He nodded once and sunk into the grass beside her, eyeing the two corpses curiously--he'd almost forgotten they were there. They were facing each other, the bodies, like two lovers sleeping side by side. If one could ignore the ugly gashes in both their throats, of course. Blinking, he refocused his attention back to her with the faintest of smiles, one that was almost friendly, almost...cordial. It didn't really fit his face, this look, but something about her was remarkable enough to draw a certain softness to him that he did not possess.

"I'm Michael," and he had no other name to offer her. "How long since you were turned? And how old were you when it happened?"

He leaned back in the grass, resting comfortably on his elbows and keeping a wary lookout for the scent of anyone passing through the vicinity. But it was her that captured the majority of his attention at the moment--now he could get a good look at her. The blood had done a good deal to revive her, but she was still so fragile, so scrawny. It was just her build, he supposed, but if she did stay there would be some changes. Certainly no more of this starvation nonsense. He'd make her into a right fine beastie.

She turned her gaze from him as he sat down. She didn't know why. There was an urge to curl against him, to nuzzle and....

No.. She couldn't... If she let herself get too attached... She'd only get hurt again.

"A... A year? Maybe more? I... I don't know I've lost track of time. It never really mattered. I had just turned sixteen... The vampire who turned me... He said that he didn't have a choice. He had to save me. Even then... I wanted death. The only one who was supposed to love me, care for me, he beat me... He did so many things... But he wouldn't have killed me. Like that liar said he had."

But she doubted that he wanted to hear about her life...

She lay down as well, curling up in the grass like before. The smell of dirt now filled her nose... The dew was beginning to settle, making it damp.

Sera knew she was nothing... Knew that he could care less about her.

"Why do I keep living? Even when I don't want to?" She murmured.

"Sixteen," he repeated thoughtfully, "that's harsh, love."

As if she didn't know that. But really, what moron turned a sixteen-year-old? A desperate moron, obviously, and a coward. Assuming that she had been changed by someone close to her, and it sounded like that was the case. He had probably been young himself, confused and afraid to lose his first obsession and convinced that it was his responsibility to save her. They were all terribly predictable, his lot.

"You've had a harsh lot in life, Kitten, and we all have our stories, some obviously worse than others. But what can death give you that you can't find here with a little luck? Peace? Rest? You can't very well know what anything nice feels like if you can't feel anything nasty to compare it to, can you?

And now you've got death. And life. It's not so bad," he shrugged, "if you choose to move with it. Love and all that, you can find it, or something like it, but you can learn not to need it, too. When you have all the time in the world, forever doesn't mean the same thing anymore."

But what did it matter? She was young. She wouldn't agree with him anyway. She might not agree even if she'd been older. He smiled, very faintly, and tilted his head to look at her.

"Ask me a question, if you want to."

"Nice....?" She said softly, her face turning away from his as she rolled over slightly.

"But how can you know what nice is if you've only known pain?" Of course she'd known nice. But it was little... And spread out in her memories. Brief moments when she had been happy. And perhaps that was worse than knowing no peace at all. There had been joy. Laying in Ambros' arms... Feeling Rowen's hands through her curls as she was recovering.

"But I never wanted any of this... I told him that I didn't want it..." However, she was sure that little whimper wasn't going to get her anywhere.

"I would... But I doubt questions are going to get me anywhere." She murmured, her back to him now as she settled, looking away from the dead humans. But there had to be one that would. There had to be a question that would... That would tell him her pain and reassure her.

"What makes you different from the others?" She whispered softly.

How many did want it? How many vampires were truly turned under willing, “normal,” circumstances? Michael was an exception, of course. He’d stolen it for the purpose of revenge, years and years ago. But how many were not turned by force by someone they loathed or someone they didn’t know at all? And those who weren’t were always turned by a vampire obsessed, not out of love. It was always a last resort, their dark gift, an excuse to cheat death, wasn’t it? He watched her turn from him, her skinny frame rising and falling smoothly with each breath. That was how it had been with her, too.

He closed his eyes, for a moment concentrating only on the gentle murmur of her voice and the hesitating question she had chosen to ask him. He moved closer to her, lying on his side as well so that he could fit close behind her. He trailed his fingers through her hair, brushing it back and away from the back of her neck, and moved closer still so that his voice was a low, secretive whisper at her ear.

“Because,” he murmured, his thumb brushing along the softness of her neck, “I need you, too, just as you need me. To survive. I need a companion to hunt with, to teach, to remind me of where I belong. I need someone like you.”

To keep him sane. To prove to her that his heart was not hers to fuck with and that, in fact, he didn't have a heart at all. Hadn't had one to begin with.

Sera tensed, her body stiffening up as he curled behind her. But as he began to stroke her hair, murmur in her ear, she relaxed.

He... He needed her? He needed her just as much as she needed him? But... Did she need him?

Yes... She... She needed him because otherwise... The voices would tear her apart. They would make her starve and suffer like she did these past nights. Her eyes fluttered shut as his fingers brushed at her neck.

"You need me?" She murmured. No one... No one had ever needed her before, it was something that was unfathomable to her. It was something that made her question him simply because... "Why would you need me... If... If you thought I was useless before... How could that change so soon Michael?" Her voice was cautious, but she pressed against him.

But she was still wary, remembering what had happen the last time a man had taken pity on her.

"Why do you need me?" She murmured again, turning over in his arms to look at him.

She turned to face him, so soft and delicate in his crude arms. Delicate, but immortal. Eternal. Beautiful. Perfect. The sadistic laughter in his eyes died, leaving his gaze as frigid as the glow of the porcelain moon. Any vestige of gentleness or deception vanished from his voice, stripped away by the bitterness of his dirty, inescapable truth.

"I'm tired of being alone." He stopped his stroking of her hair but did not remove his fingers from her pale, flawless cheek. "I'm tired of passing my nights, restless, empty, cold. Meaningless. I'm tortured, Kitten, can't you feel it? I'm sick. And I need you."

He found her wrists and held them fast, pulling her closer until his forehead nearly touched hers. The look had returned to his eyes, bright and savage.

"I'm too old to be fixated on things that break and fade, things that die. I want something else, something new. And I want that to be you, Kitten. I want to share things with you that I can't give to the others. I want to show you this world from the very start, and I want to watch you fall in love with it."

He released his grip on her, gently catching her chin.

"What do you want, Sera? What can I give you?"

He was telling the truth it seemed... His eyes... His face was serious, his touch was firm, but gentle.

As he pulled her close, her lips nearly reached out to touch his. but she controlled himself.She... She couldn't let her urges overcome her. Her desire for real... affectionate contact.

Rowen's touch had been caring... But even though she'd approached Raymond several times in an attempt to display her affections to him... He'd only chased her off with his thoughts, his... repulsions of her.

What Sera wanted most was to believe him... She wanted to believe what he was saying and his intents. And so she did what she could do. She believed him, and the fact that he was a friend. "I... I don't want to be alone... I... I want someone who can understand me." She whispered softly as she looked up at him, her brown eyes meeting his. "I just want... Want someone who knows me and loves me... For me."

Sera wanted to kiss him to press herself against him and be reassured that he was real that this wasn't simply an imagination caused by her slow and painful death. She had seen things before after all, he wouldn't be the first person. Her mother, father... She had seen them both.

"Real... too. I want someone real.... Who can touch me... And hold me close." But... wasn't that too much? Would she really be able to have all that in life? Or rather, in Death.

She was a cute kid. But she was still just a kid. Michael was careful to bar her from his thoughts, or to bar them from her as the case seemed to be, for he could not prevent the low, smug purr that saturated each though, each new and forming plan he had for her. And that bitch, she’d be miserable. If only she knew. Wherever she was now—probably out fucking some married man—if only she knew. Replaced. Dismissed. Not from his presence, of course, but from his thoughts. She was as gone from him as she was ever going to get while still living, and he was pleased with himself.

He forced himself back to where she was, listening closely to the answer he had asked for. Almost without thinking, he ran his fingertips up along the curve of her hip to her waist and rested it there. It wasn’t her. But he would be damned if he didn’t convince himself that this young thing, this sweet-faced, innocent girl wasn’t better. And really, what more could he ask for than a sweet, innocent thing to subject to his own wicked intentions? It was perfect. She was perfect, his Kitten. He was brilliant. He bowed his head closer still to her until they very nearly touched.

“Then you won’t be alone,” he murmured. “I’ll protect you, Kitten, keep you safe, make you happy. You’ll never have to hear those nasty voices. I’ll take care of you. I have a house, on the edge of town. It’s secluded, comfortable. No one will bother us. You can stay there, and when I have to leave for work you’ll be completely safe until I come back. I’ll never be gone long, Kitten. I’ll always be close.”

Sera murmured with a soft smile as he brushed her body.

Nuzzling her cheek against his as he moved his head closer she curled up against him fully now. She might not look like a woman... She might look innocent... But where she was a kitten now, she could be a tiger at times.

His words made her murmur with contentment, a small smile on her face.

Michael wanted to care for her, wanted to love her and care for her. He would teach her like... Like Felix had and he seemed to understand her and know what she needed. Smiling she continued to nuzzle at him, curling up to bury her face in his chest.

"I don't want to be alone, don't want to be alone anymore." And if he could keep the voices away... Could help her learn to block it instead of just isolating her like Rowen did. "Promise... That you won't leave me? That you'll stay with me and teach me how to block the thoughts?" She looked up at him, hoping that he would say yes...

"We'll figure it out," he promised, his fingers twisting gently through her tangled hair. "We'll figure out how to keep them quiet and out of your head. My Kitten has claws. Now we just have to figure out how to use them, don't we?"

Michael gently removed himself from her, careful to mask any hint of impatience in his conniving heart. He stood beside her, looking once about them at their empty surroundings and at the couple of corpses lying in the dirt, so lovely, so still. They would be found eventually, and the marks on their necks were vicious enough to look less like bite marks than slash wounds.

Looking back at Sera, he offered her his hand. His voice was uncharacteristically gentle, honeyed, as though speaking to a small child. And in a sense, he was. Right now she was in a delicate state of mind and was looking only for a very few basic things. Protection. Some compassion. He could give her that. Or, at the very least, he could pretend to. Just so long as she was around to keep him busy, he'd stick around to look out for her.

"Come with me now, Sera, and I'll show you where we'll live. We'll buy you nice things, things all your own, when you're stronger."

"No..." She murmured as he got up and moved away from her. He... He couldn't leave her! Why was he...

Sera scrambled to her feet after him, she wanted to run to him, make sure he wasn't going to leave her here. But he stood there looking at the bodies. She looked down at them fearfully. "I... I'm sorry. I couldn't help it Michael... I... I couldn't help myself. I know I shouldn't have, but I was just so hungry." She said softly looking up at him.

But as he offered her his hand, she took it, nodding eagerly as she moved closer to him.

"So.... You're not mad I killed them? Rowen... She... She said that I shouldn't do that. That we shouldn't kill them because we... We we used to be them." She bit her lip hesitantly.

Michael glanced down at her, genuinely surprised by the note of panic in her voice as she pieced together an apology.

"Of course I'm not mad. I'm the one who brought them to you, love. Remember how I hurt the first one for you? He wouldn't have lived after that even if you hadn't fed off him. No, they were meant to be killed. Why let them live? Then you have confused humans running around, and sometimes there's complications," he shook his head, clearly disgusted with the idea. "No, I don't agree. We used to be them. But we aren't them, not anymore. So many vampires try so hard to be what they once were, but as far as we know we can't be unmade. That part of them is gone, dead. A good thing, too, look how weak they are."

He led her closer to the bodies, nudging the neck of the dead girl with his foot so that her pale, sleepy face nodded towards them.

"Human are chattel, Kitten. They have no strengths, no real intelligence. Very few them even appreciate their own existence. If we don't kill them, they'll only kill each other anyway. Why let them go to waste?"

Sera looked up at him, her head tilted slightly, confusion on her face.

But as she listened she slowly began to nod in agreement. "We aren't them... Felix... He always said I couldn't think of myself as one of them anymore... I was better than they were." She murmured, looking down at them, indifferent to the look of fear on the man's face. The way their limp bodies lay like rag dolls...

"I... I liked killing them. I did." She said with a steady whisper, remembering another thing Felix had told her. She hated him... But his words weren't any less true. "If they knew what I was... They would kill me without hesitation. They would kill me because they would fear me." Her voice grew stronger, a growl rising in her throat. "Because they're afraid of me.... And they should be. Because I will kill them all for hurting me." She hissed as she glared down at the bodies. The man.. He had hurt her... He deserved his death

"I'll kill them all..."

The way she spoke of death, of killing, nearly made him shudder with delight. Spoken from the lips of a child. But a child she was not. She was a predator, and one to be reckoned with, no less powerful than any other fledgling. And what was more, she'd had his blood. Not a great deal, certainly, but enough to give her a taste of something old and powerful. He bowed his head closer to hers, watching the two corpses from over her shoulder.

"Then we'll have lots of fun, you and I," he growled into her ear, against her earthy hair. His fingertips traced along her pretty, porcelain throat. "Come along."

He gently removed her from the gory scene in favor of the forested trail that skirted around towards the city. They were quite far from his current house, but the place he intended to take her was rather close by. It was far more secluded, far less showy. And it was free of company. Taking her to his other home would be a danger, to him and to the other few humans living there. To Aldonza.

"I encourage you to kill them, Kitten, but do you know how to clean them up once you're finished with them? It's important to never leave them lying around as we just did when you're near your own home."

Her body wavered, threatening to go limp against him as he whispered in her ear, caressed her neck.

She let him pull her away reluctantly from the scene. She didn't want to go, but she let him guide her away. But had he left, she would have followed him, not wanting to be away from him for too long.

Sera looked up at him and glared. "Clean... You..." Snarling, she pulled her hand away from his, her fangs bared at him. "Are you one of those fucking Amman? I don't have to do anything I don't want to! If I want to leave them there to rot I'll do that!"

But... But an Amman who wasn't going to kill her outright? One who didn't care if she killed? It... It was unusual. But she didn't care. He was old, she could tell that much... But why didn't he killed her? Why didn't he just... just destroy her now?

She tugged her hand from his in a sudden fit, and when he turned to face her, her fangs were bared. His frigid eyes flashed once with dangerous lethargy, and his own lips curled back in a snarl that mirrored her own. He lunged forward and struck her hard across the face with the back of his hand, moving to tower over her, his expression a perfect mask of rage.

"If you are going to live with me, then you will do what you're told. You'll do precisely what I tell you, or you can get the hell out of here right now, do you understand me? I don't play by anyone's rules, especially not those made by the Amman. But I have rules of my own, and they certainly won't be challenged by a treacherous little brat."

He growled once, then backed away from her, running the back of his hand across his lips once and resuming a more sophisticated pose. He turned his back on her, his voice still a low, malicious snarl.

"You can behave, or you can't. You can question me politely like a good girl, or you can't. You had better make your choice and make it fast, because if you choose to back out now you had better be good and gone before I look again."

Glancing at her once, he turned to walk on.

Sera was sent sprawling as the blow caught her off guard, tasting blood in her mouth.

Struggling to get up she quailed as she saw his face, falling back fearfully. Her body trembled weakly, looking up at him with a near terror. Why... Why was he being like this? She... She'd snapped at him yes... But she hadn't even dared try to hurt him, and not out of fear before.

He turned to leave and she was still shaking with fear.

She wanted to run from him.... But... But she couldn't survive alone. She wouldn't be able to live long at all, a week at most as she well knew.

But... Would it be better than being with him? If he was like that... but... But he had been so nice before... Why did he suddenly turn on her? Her eyes widened as he began to walk away.

"No... Michael... Please..." She whimpered. "I... I didn't mean it...." But she was far to afraid to follow him now.

He paused at the sound of her voice, his muscles rippling as they tensed, relaxed, restless to be put to some good, bloody business. But his blinding temper was subsiding, the image of her snarling face being quickly alleviated by the pitiful sound of her pleading whimper. Damn straight she should be begging.

"Well?" He asked without turning, his voice returning to the lulling, measured cadence of before. "Are you going to be polite as you should and ask questions like a reasonable girl?"

He faced her at last, his expression as calm and impassive as if nothing had happened at all. His cold eyes were as cold as ever, but they lacked the venomous glow they had taken on upon her unexpected rebuttal. If she wanted to follow, she could come to him. He'd be damned if he was going to beg her to tag along. Not a chance in hell.

"Come here, if you're coming, Kitten," he nearly purred. "Prove to me you're strong. Come to me."